At least her aunt and uncle had sold their farmland to the city for a golf course and kept only the cottage and its yard. If she squinted her eyes hard enough, Kelly could block out the golfers and picture her uncle heading to the barn years ago when he was still alive.
“Kelly, is that you?” a woman’s voice called.
Kelly shut the gate, knowing Carl would be occupied for hours identifying scents. She turned and recognized Mimi Shafer walking across the driveway. Mimi owned the knitting and needlework shop that now occupied what was once Aunt Helen’s and Uncle Jim’s farmhouse. Her aunt had been ecstatic about the arrangement, since she was an expert knitter and quilter, but Kelly had always felt vaguely resentful. She remembered when the house was filled with Aunt Helen and Uncle Jim—and memories. But Uncle Jim’s long illness changed all that.
Now, Kelly felt nothing but gratitude. Mimi had been Aunt Helen’s closest friend and had never left Kelly’s side during yesterday’s service. She gave names to faces and helped Kelly stand and sit through a liturgy that was no longer familiar.
Kelly straightened her white blouse and navy skirt. Not as tailored as her usual CPA firm attire, but sober enough for a lawyer meeting. She couldn’t wait until she could change into a casual top and slacks, maybe even shorts if it stayed warm. Ever since she got back, she’d been dressed up and meeting people. Just like the office. But Colorado meant sunshine and mountains and freedom to Kelly. And that meant shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers.
She brushed her chin-length dark-brown hair behind her ear and checked the barrette in back. Kelly’d rushed through her shower and dressing in order to fit in a morning run along the trail that ran beside the motel. She’d barely checked the mirror. After yesterday’s tears, she needed to clear her head. Running always helped her think.
She waved to Mimi. “I just thought I’d let Carl use Helen’s backyard today while I go to all those . . . you know, meetings. Lawyer, banker, and all that.”
“That’s a great idea. I’m sure he’s tired of being cooped up in the motel room,” Mimi said with a bright smile. Her sun-streaked brown hair feathered softly around her face. Fiftyish, slender, and pretty, she wore a powder-blue straight dress that accentuated her trim figure. But what really drew Kelly’s attention was the open-weave vest she wore on top; the loosely fixed knots held the yarns together. Varying shades of blue traveled all the way to green and back again. The effect was stunning.
“Do you have time for a cup of tea or coffee?” Mimi asked, obviously hoping for a yes.
Kelly hesitated, running through her mental daytimer. That and the Greenwich Meridian time clock in her head kept Kelly on task. She depended on that clock. Back in the firm, everyone kept track of their time in tenths of an hour—six-minute intervals—billable hours. Consequently, Kelly was seldom late. “I have a few minutes. My appointment with the lawyer isn’t until ten.”
“Oh, darn, I was hoping we’d have more time,” Mimi said, her smile momentarily missing. “I’ve been dying to show you the shop, but I guess it’ll just have to wait until later today. Why don’t we step over to the café?” She gestured toward the pathway leading around the farmhouse.
Kelly completely forgot that a bistro-style café had opened in the former kitchen and dining room of the farmhouse since her last visit. As they followed the flower beds and flagstone path, Kelly was astonished to see the café also spilled out into the shady backyard. Surrounded by high stucco walls, the entire patio was private, secluded from the outside. The whole setting was delightful and charming, Kelly had to admit.
Mimi chose a table and sat down, motioning to a nearby waitress as Kelly settled into a wrought iron chair. “This is really quite nice. I like what they’ve done here,” Kelly surprised herself by saying. Noticing the many tables filled with customers lingering over late breakfasts and brunch, she asked, “How’s it doing? Financially, I mean. I know how hard it is for small restaurants to make it.” As a beginning accountant years ago, Kelly had had several restaurants to worry about. “Shoe box clients” she used to call them, because they always kept their accounts in shoe boxes for some reason.
“Actually, quite well, according to Pete,” said Mimi. “He’s the young man who had the idea of turning this whole area into a restaurant. Somehow, he managed to convince the management company that owns it to invest in used equipment, and he volunteered all the labor. He put his heart and soul into this place.” She shook her head. “Let’s hope all that hard work hasn’t been wasted . . . for both of us.”
Intrigued by the cryptic remark, Kelly was about to respond when the waitress appeared. She had shoulder-length reddish-brown hair that curved around a pretty face. “Hi, Mimi,” she said with a bright smile, then turned a warm gaze to Kelly.
“Kelly, this is Jennifer Stroud,” Mimi introduced. “She was also a friend of Helen’s.”
“Kelly, I just wanted to say how shocked we were at Helen’s death. She was a wonderful lady. I used to see her over at the shop almost every day, and she was always so sweet and loving. We’ll all miss her a lot.”
The comments caught Kelly unprepared, and she felt her eyes grow suddenly moist. She glanced down at her napkin. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
Jennifer reached out and patted Kelly’s arm. “Hey, that’s okay. Let me bring you something. I know Mimi’s order already. Earl Grey, cream. How about you?”
“Coffee, black and strong,” Kelly said with a smile, which helped chase away the tears.
“Down with decaf, right?” Jennifer winked as she flipped the notepad closed. “Be right back.”
“I think she was at the funeral yesterday, but I really can’t remember too much,” Kelly said as she watched Jennifer skirt between tables, glad for the chance to compose herself.
“Oh, yes, she was there with the other knitting shop regulars.”
“Regulars?” Kelly asked. “Who are they?”
“We’ve got lots of knitting and needlework groups that meet regularly at the shop during the week. Some are organized, some just happen, like Jennifer’s group. They’re a bunch of women, many of whom are around your age, who meet after work a couple of times a week or more. Of course, anybody who shows up is welcome to sit in with any group. That’s how Helen met Jennifer and the others.”
Kelly could easily picture that. Helen was always knitting, and loved nothing better than to share her passion. It was a shame Kelly had proven to be such an unwilling student. Now, she was sorry she’d always feigned impatience whenever her aunt had tried to coax her into learning to knit.
“I know Aunt Helen enjoyed that,” Kelly mused. “She loved meeting new people. And living across from the shop, she could make new friends almost every day. Every week when I’d call her, she’d always tell me something funny she’d heard, usually from some friend.” Kelly would miss those phone calls.
“Helen had lots of friends, as you saw yesterday at the service. Everyone loved her, and we want to help you in whatever way we can, Kelly. Several people have offered to help go through the house when you’re ready.”
Kelly groaned inwardly. That unpleasant chore had almost slipped her mind. Whenever it had appeared, she’d shoved it away. At least having people with her would make the task easier and less painful. “I confess I’ve deliberately not thought about that chore,” she admitted. “I guess I’m avoiding going into the house after, well, you know.”
“I understand, Kelly.”
“Thanks so much. I really appreciate your help. I remember how hard it was going through my dad’s things, and I’d been prepared for his death.”
Mimi reached out and patted Kelly’s arm. “Well, you’re not alone this time, Kelly. We’re here to help you.”
Jennifer’s cheerful bustle and the inviting tray of coffee and tea arrived just when Kelly felt her eyes grow moist again. After the funeral yesterday she thought she’d cried herself dr
y. Apparently there was a well inside her that ran deeper than she knew.
There was no one left anymore. Her dad, three years ago. Now, Aunt Helen. Her entire family was gone.
“Here you go,” Jennifer announced as she set the tea and coffee in place. “Pete even threw in one of those wicked cinnamon rolls on the house.”
“Ohhh, that’s cruel,” Mimi groaned. “He knows I can’t have the sugar.”
Kelly eyed the tempting coil of golden, flaky, sweet dough slathered with a sugary cream-cheese icing that drizzled down the sides. She’d forgotten Fort Connor’s community weakness for these oversized breakfast buns. The bakery that specialized in making them kept the calorie count a secret.
“It’s still warm,” tempted Jennifer with a grin.
Her normal willpower was either sound asleep or stunned into silence at the sight of the huge pastry. So, with no nagging voice in her head, Kelly picked up the fork. “What the heck. I’ll need it for all those meetings. Lawyers are depressing.”
“Absolutely,” Jennifer concurred, clearly enjoying Kelly’s quick capitulation. “Besides, you’re tall and slender. It’ll never show. On me, it’d be on my hips in five minutes.”
“Oh, right,” Kelly retorted with a grin. “Why don’t you share it with me?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Don’t tempt me. I was born with a sweet tooth.”
“Seriously, I can’t finish this monster all by myself.” She sliced the bun in half and pushed one half to the side of her plate.
Jennifer glanced at the pastry. “We’re not supposed to eat with customers.”
Kelly sensed weakness. She took a big bite, closed her eyes, and let out a dramatic, “Mmmmmmmmmm!”
“That’s it. Priorities.” Jennifer laughed and grabbed her portion.
“Which are?” Mimi teased.
Jennifer paused after swallowing. “Right now, sugar. It’s gonna be a busy day.”
Kelly polished off her share and reached for the coffee, which was surprisingly rich and dark. She drank in the blissful enjoyment of the strong brew. “Yum, this is really good for the plain stuff. My compliments.”
“That’s Eduardo’s doing. He’s our cook and insists on making the coffee every morning. I think he throws in espresso or chicory or shoelaces or who knows what. But it’ll wake you up, for sure.”
“Bless him, and tell him I’ll be back.” The timer went off inside her head, and Kelly drained the cup. “Speaking of that, I have to go. Lawyers get all pinched around the edges if you’re late.” She scooted back her chair and brushed telltale sugar flakes off her skirt. “Oh, Mimi, I almost forgot. Could you fill a bowl with water for Carl, please? I fed him this morning, but I forgot to grab his water dish.”
“No problem. I’ll give him some food come dinnertime, too, so don’t rush. And make sure you stop in the shop when you return. I can’t wait to show you everything we’ve done. You haven’t been in since we opened four years ago.” Mimi exuded pride. “You’ll be surprised, I think.”
“I look forward to it. Thanks, Mimi,” Kelly said as she backed away from the table. Glancing at Jennifer as she headed for the pathway, Kelly waved. “Nice meeting you, Jennifer.”
“Oh, you’ll see me later at the shop. With the others. Good luck with the lawyer.”
Kelly hastened to her car. She’d dutifully let Mimi show off her shop, for Aunt Helen’s sake, if nothing else. Kelly couldn’t knit her way out of a paper bag. So all that knitting stuff would be lost on her. Her aunt had tried several times to instruct Kelly when she was growing up and even as an adult, but it never seemed to take. Kelly would fumble the needles and drop the yarn—whatever it took to appear completely incompetent. There were so many more fun things to do outside on the farm, she just couldn’t sit still long enough to learn.
Besides, all those different kinds of stitches looked complicated to Kelly. Knitting here, purling there. All that yarn, needles busily working away, stitch after stitch, row after row. Looked like a lot of work to Kelly. She just didn’t have that kind of patience. The only patience she’d ever had was for numbers. Numbers stayed put on paper. They didn’t fall off the end of the needles.
Oh yes, Kelly thought, as she backed her car out of the parking space, numbers were far less confusing than knitting.
• • •
Lawrence Chambers tapped his gold-rimmed pen against the leather desk pad as he scanned the documents before him. Kelly used the opportunity to study the lawyer, who was the same age as her aunt. His gray hair shone silver as a stray morning sunbeam crossed the desk. Chambers had been Aunt Helen’s trusted lawyer and close friend for a lifetime.
“Thanks to Helen’s foresight, you should have no problem handling any expense involved with the estate,” he spoke up. “You’re cosigner on both bank accounts, checking and savings, as well as the safe-deposit box. It was a smart move, considering you’re her only heir.”
“Aunt Helen told me four years ago what her wishes were. I’ve always tried to oblige her in whatever way I could.”
Chambers glanced up from the papers in his hand and smiled across the large walnut desk. Kelly noticed his faded blue eyes were kind.
“Helen appreciated everything you did for her. She told me so many times.”
Kelly glanced away. “She was like a mom to me, Mr. Chambers. You know that. Besides, when my dad died three years ago, I promised him I’d take care of her. She was his only living relative.” Guilt twinged inside. She’d never broken a promise to her dad in her whole life.
Chambers set down the papers, watching Kelly, then gestured to the wall. “That’s hers, you know.”
Kelly studied the framed quilted scene that had caught her eye earlier. Deep, rich browns and greens portrayed a small house nestled in the mountains, surrounded by tall evergreens. “I thought that might be her work. It’s so vibrant.”
“Yes, she did that from a photograph of the mountain cabin our family has had for years.” He smiled. “She surprised us with it on our anniversary. That was Helen. Always doing for others. If she wasn’t stitching for someone she knew, she’d be knitting for the homeless shelter.”
“Yes, I know. I’m the one who used to buy the yarn online to save her money.” A spark of anger flared suddenly. “It doesn’t seem right, does it, Mr. Chambers. My aunt was murdered by some vagrant, exactly the sort of person she tried to help. Where’s the justice in that?”
Chambers clasped his hands on top of the documents. “There is none, Kelly. This is one of those horrible, awful acts of random violence.”
Kelly stared at the floor-to-ceiling walnut bookcases that lined one wall. “The officer told me this was a ‘burglary gone bad.’ She said this guy came into Helen’s house that night, saw her purse and grabbed it. Then, supposedly Helen came out and saw him, screamed, and he strangled her. Then he ran off.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what the police told me. Apparently this man was a drunk and a vagrant and was always getting into trouble. He must have come into the house, grabbed her purse, and when Helen came out,” his voice became strained, “he killed her for it.” He sighed. “Thank goodness he was too drunk to be smart. The police saw him run away from the scene, so they caught him right away.”
Kelly leaned forward in her chair and eyed Chambers. Something he’d said. “That’s a little different from what the police told me. They said they’d seen this guy ‘near the house,’ not coming from it. Are you sure that’s what they told you?”
Chambers pondered. “I’m fairly certain the detective who spoke with me said they captured the suspect fleeing the scene. Yes, that’s exactly what he said. ‘Fleeing the scene.’ And I took that to mean he was coming from the house.”
“Do you remember who you spoke with, Mr. Chambers? The woman who called me was a community relations officer and wasn’t involved with the case.”
“
Oh, yes, I spoke with Lieutenant Morrison. He’s in charge. A very experienced detective, from what I’ve heard. Very thorough.”
Kelly opened her portfolio and wrote the name on a legal pad. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Chambers. I mean, this guy had to be lurking around Aunt Helen’s house before he came in. Looking in the windows or something.” She closed the portfolio with a snap. “He must have been drunk. Why else would he have tried to steal from a woman who never carried more than twenty dollars in her purse?” A bitter note crept into her voice. It felt good to release it.
Chambers peered at Kelly over his glasses with a worried frown. “Well, uh, she may have had more in her purse—”
“Oh, no, sir,” Kelly countered. “She never had more than twenty bucks and change at any one time. She always used her debit card because it kept her on a budget. And I should know, Mr. Chambers, because I drew up her budget and kept her accounts every month. She was still paying off some of Uncle Jim’s medical bills, so she was very careful.”
Chambers’ lined face creased even more. “Didn’t she tell you about the . . . the, uh, money she was borrowing?”
Kelly blinked. Surely she couldn’t have heard the lawyer right. “Borrowing? Helen wasn’t borrowing any money. Remember, I kept her accounts. I would know.”
“I’m afraid she did. Just before she died.”
Kelly stared back at him, incredulous. “What? Where . . . I mean, who . . . how much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Chambers said in a pained voice.
“Twenty thousand dollars!” Kelly sat bolt upright. “But why? And . . . and where would Helen borrow that kind of money, anyway? She was living on Jim’s state pension and Social Security.”
“The only place she could, Kelly. She refinanced her house. And went to one of those predatory lenders to do it.” He shook his head sadly. “I advised her against it, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she needed it and would talk to me later. I assumed she was giving it to you, that you needed it for something.”
Knit to Be Tied Page 21
